


Merlin's Army

by Iconodule (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Coming of Age, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Ginny Bashing, Good Slytherins, Greengrass Family - Freeform, Hermione Bashing, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mind Reading, Muggle Life, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Some Humor, Telepathy, Threats of Violence, Tragedy, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Iconodule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Astoria Malfoy, née Greengrass, an extremely talented young legilimens (and, accordingly, misanthrope) as she navigates through life during and after the Second Wizarding War. All readers who attempt to deduce a theme or message from this fan fiction will be prosecuted under the full extent of wizarding law. </p><p>Some AU in regards to Slytherin House, but otherwise canon-compliant.  If I choose to eventually tag warnings, it will probably take a while for the content in question to appear, so you should be relatively safe for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Slytherin's Tale, As Told By Slytherin Tradition

        It was a time before the walls of ignorance and illusion separated the world of the magical people and the Muggles.  The magical folk were greatly outnumbered, as we are now, and this allowed the fear of the Muggles to transform into terrifyingly successful witch hunts and scapegoating.  You may laugh at this -- Muggles posing a threat to us.  But before certain magical inventions, surviving capture by wrathful Muggles was much, much harder, you see.  Especially for those of us who weren’t as adept at magic, like young children or the elderly.  As you can imagine, witches and wizards reacted by forming secret communities in order to be safer, and to practice magic in peace.  One of these secret, protected communities was, of course, Hogwarts. Other communities had been breached before by infiltrators.  Nonmagical spies would not work after a while, of course.  They would need to perform something to prove themselves. No, they used Muggle-borns to further their goals.  A newcomer would show up to the magical community, asking for a place to belong. The community would oblige, and, soon afterward, the wizard or witch no one had heard of would be gone and a mob of villagers from their home village that they had supposedly broken off ties with would come in the middle of the night.  Or, alternatively, a Muggle-born would come to the community, and a group of Muggles would find them and accuse the magical folk of stealing the child because they showed magical ability -- or worse, that the magical folk had given the child to the service of the devil. The area authorities would send soldiers to arrest the witches and wizards and burn them at the stake.

       With the founders of Hogwarts' abilities, staying hidden would be much easier.  But some of the protection spells they used were new inventions. And even if the boundaries were safe, they were teaching and protecting children at the castle.  So, Slytherin proposed that they only teach those with strong, easily-trusted ties to the wizarding community -- in other words, pure-bloods -- in order to ensure the highest security possible for the students and those witches and wizards connected with the castle.  The other founders didn’t agree.  They were somewhat radical in their time. Gryffindor thought the risk was worth putting his hope of living peaceably along with the Muggles into practice. Ravenclaw was interested in learning more about how the Muggles lived and thought.  Hufflepuff thought it was too unfair.  Their positions ruled out Slytherin’s, and so Hogwarts as a whole accepted any witch or wizard who wanted to learn. Slytherin continued his friendship with the other founders, allowed to exclude muggle-borns from his group of students as long as he kept the peace. 

       However, a close call with a battalion of the king’s soldiers shook Hogwarts’ peace regardless.  It was never found out what had led them to Hogwarts, but Slytherin was convinced it was a young witch whose Muggle parents were well connected to the local nobility. When the other founders did not believe him and refused to take any of the precautions he suggested, he began separating his students and himself from the rest of the school. As his friendships with the other founders deteriorated, he began to breed a basilisk that could, in the future, be used by him or another parselmouth to defend the school from Muggle attackers. They would see, he thought. Maybe, when that day came, they would acknowledge him again and heal their old friendship. That day never came.


	2. Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Astoria arrives for her first year at Hogwarts, is sorted, meets people, and is welcomed into her House.

       The boat ride to the castle had almost made up for the necessity of being in a crowd of people. As Astoria's boat gently journeyed across the still lake, the lights from the fleet's lanterns added a new constellation to the starry map that was reflected in the black water. She dipped her hand in the water, wanting to tempt up some strange lake-dweller. A wave of nervousness washed over her as her gaze turned to the looming castle on the horizon, and along with it came the scattered thoughts and emotions of her peers. Elation, wonder, and trepidation were mixed in with the all-too familiar thoughts of casual hatred.

        _That ginger girl is so fat. Her face reminds me of a monkey. I bet I'll get about twenty times as many –_

        _I hope my magic is good enough. I'd better size up the competition. I think I could at least beat this guy in –_

        _Did you see the way that skinny, makeup-caked girl was looking at me? I bet she's the most heartless tart who ever –_

       Astoria sighed angrily and shook her head vigorously. Her parents, both harmless enough, had contacted the headmaster beforehand, hoping he could find a special tutor to help her control her legilimency. Apparently she was an oddity, possessing such an unconscious ability at such a young age. It was especially weird since she only had an average ability at best in every other magical field. That will change, Astoria thought with determination. After all these years of enduring the thoughts of those around her, she knew she had to rise above the standard set by these ordinary backbiters. She was better than them. Even as much as she despised the constant influx of hateful thoughts, they made her feel pure.

       The boat ride brought the first-years into the cool, stone interior of Hogwarts. The children looked with awe around them. Astoria was especially impressed with the tall vaulted ceiling, which was lush with lovingly sculpted details of water and fish (to match the indoor docking area for the boats, she assumed). A tall, black-haired woman led the first years up a long flight of stairs into a huge entrance hall, big enough to fit a whole house. Through a gigantic pair of oaken doors on the right on the hall, Astoria could hear a loud rumble of voices, as well as whisperings of a myriad of mental impressions from the students inside. She could piece together a rough picture of the Great Hall from them: long, wooden tables with black-robed children of many ages sitting at them. There were shining plates and goblets sitting on the tables, and all of them were empty. Astoria scurried quietly past the woman (Professor McGonagall, as the big groundskeeper had addressed her) to try and get a better look through the doors. The Great Hall was just as beautiful as the exterior of the castle. Through the small aperture of the slightly opened grand doors, Astoria could see hundreds of floating candles hovering like glowing minnows under the sky-like ceiling, with its clouds shifting and swirling to dapple the light of the painted moon. The sight made her gasp unintentionally, her fingers and toes tingling with excitement.

       "Try to control your eagerness, young lady. You have to stay in line just like the other first-years." The tall, severe witch who spoke looked down at Astoria sternly, waving her away from the door. Astoria obliged grouchily, making an impatient growl in her throat. McGonagall looked at her quizzically for a moment, but quickly proceeded through her usual beginning of the year routine.

       "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first you need to be sorted into your respective Houses. This is a very important event, because while you are here, your House will be like a new family to you. You will, of course, attend most of your classes with children of the same House, and you will dine and live with them as well. As you triumph in your endeavors here, your house will earn points. If you misbehave or otherwise fall short of your responsibilities as a student of this illustrious school, your House will lose points. At the end of the academic year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup, which is a much sought-after honor. For those of you children who do not already know, there are four Houses here: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of these Houses has its own illustrious history and has produced outstanding members of our community. I hope each one of you will be a credit to whichever one you become a member of."

       The other children were wondering which house they were going to be sorted into. Some had a preference, either from that house's reputation or from family or friends. All of the Greengrass family that Astoria knew of, whose list of magical members stretched back to at least the time of the Anglo-Saxon invasion, was either in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Her older sister Daphne, however, had been sorted into Slytherin, a fact that worried her parents and elated Daphne. As for Astoria, she wasn't sure which house she wanted. She certainly didn't want to see much of Daphne, but there was sure to be someone else she hated in the other houses. Well, the choice wasn't really up to her, anyway. McGonagall continued with her procedure after the chattering of the first-years subsided.

       "I will require you to line up in alphabetical order by last name. First, Aalders, Jane…" The children shuffled into place nervously, muttering to each other about what could be in store for them behind the great oaken doors. After McGonagall went into the Great Hall to prepare whatever the Sorting Ceremony entailed, a brown haired-girl who towered over her (which wasn't saying much) started in a nervous voice,

       "H-hi, I'm Sarah Grieve. Nice to meet you, uh…" Astoria looked up at Sarah coolly, trying to focus her legilimency her way. Just the normal sweaty palms, beginning of school anxiety, plus longing thoughts of the home she'd left a few hours ago. There wasn't anything to be alarmed about at the moment. After what must have been a few awkward seconds, she replied,

       "I'm Astoria. Astoria Greengrass."

       "Oh. Um…what house do you want? I personally want to be a Hufflepuff. I don't know, from what I've heard, they seem less demanding."

       "I don't really care which house I get," Astoria replied in her surprisingly high voice.

       "Oh. I guess that's good. Y-you know, I hear most people marry someone they meet in school. I wonder if I'll meet the one here, you know?" Sarah hastily said to fill up the uncomfortable silence. Luckily for both of them, McGonagall returned just as she finished that thought.

       The Great Hall hushed its clamor as the fist-years filed in, only to stop before a stool with an old wizard's hat on it. Something Daphne always said was that the fashion sense of the magical world was perpetually stuck in an age where everyone dressed like a senile old cat lady. Seeing this sad thing, Astoria had to grudgingly agree with her for once. A rip opened on the hat, which then proceeded to sing about the four Houses and their founders.

        _Oh God. It's singing. Do I have to sing too? Does everything in this place sing?_ Astoria thought with chagrin. When the song finally ended, McGonagall sounded out their names in alphabetical order, just like before. They came up to the stool and put the hat on. When her name was called, she walked up to the hat slowly, trying to mask her fear. The patchy, brown fabric slid over her eyes, covering up the sea of curious faces, all staring at her.

        _Don't like my singing, do you? Hmmm. Well, it seems you're not a Hufflepuff, that's for sure…_ a scratchy voice said in her head. Astoria yelped in absolute surprise and nearly tipped off the stool, resulting in a murmur of soft laughter and shushes from the older students sitting at the tables. An influx of derisive thoughts gathered at the edge of her mind. She was so used to reading other peoples thoughts, it was a shock to have someone else be in her own head, which she had never questioned the sanctity of before. The hat chuckled and went on.

      _So, you want to rise above the common rabble, eh? Gain control over this power of yours? You wouldn't do badly in Ravenclaw with this curiosity, but I'm going to have to say…._ "SLYTHERIN!"

       The table of students with green and silver ties at the far end of the hall applauded loudly for the short little girl as she hurried to their table, red spreading over her pale face. She tried to shield herself from looks by pulling some of the prodigious amount of her wavy, dark brown hair over her face. She sat down at the nearest open seat, which happened to be a few seats away from her sister and right next to a blonde boy who looked like he was in Daphne's year in school.

       "Well, you made it the best house, Tori. Congratulations," said Daphne with her lips covered in bright red lipstick. With her lipstick, thick eyeliner, and dyed, teased hair, she was definitely attempting a "rocker" look. And succeeding. Daphne was trying to cover up her Welsh accent to sound cool, and Astoria could tell even without legilimency that she was embarrassed by Astoria's outburst under the Hat. She looked darkly back at her sister, her shame growing.

       "Yes, welcome, dear! We've heard so much about you!" chimed a pretty sixth-year who was sitting across from Astoria cheerily, trying to calm her. "You certainly seem like an interesting person! I'm Gemma Farley, a prefect. Don't worry, you'll be well looked after here!" Astoria gave her a small smile, trying to resist reading any thoughts coming from her. She didn't want to ruin the friendly image she had.

       "This is Graham Montague. I think you've met before now, right?" said Gemma, gesturing to a rather muscular third-year with straight, black hair sitting in between Gemma and Daphne. He gave a polite nod and smiled. He was one of Daphne's best friends, and had come to visit her at their house before.

       "The boy sitting next to you is Draco Malfoy, and next to him are Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe." Before, Draco had been talking to Gregory about dementors making someone faint on the Hogwarts Express. Hearing his name mentioned, he turned to her and said, "Pleased to meet you, Astoria. I'm interested to see how such a powerful legilimens turns out. I hope we can be friends." He offered a hand to her smugly, expecting a shake. Astoria looked up at him, picking out his thoughts in particular from the rest of the random barrage of images trying to get into her mind. She remembered Daphne mentioning him in annoyance, along with the other Slytherin kids who were into pureblood ideology. This one was apparently the worst of his year. What could he be like, really? Draco had started to withdraw his hand when she finally shook it, grinning toothily.

       "You know, people aren't usually so eager to be around someone who can read their thoughts, Malfoy."

       "Well, I –" "You know what else? I think envy is the ugliest emotion," Astoria said slyly, still grinning as she glanced quickly at the Gryffindor table, where a bespectacled boy with black hair and a buck-toothed girl were just sitting down together. Draco's face reddened, and he looked away angrily.

       "I have no idea what you're talking about, Greengrass." He retorted firmly. A few of the other students listening snickered, guessing at what Astoria was getting at, but most of the other students were turning to the headmaster, who was about to commence the year. The Great Hall quickly quieted, and Astoria couldn't help but be filled with hope and excitement at the prospect of the year beginning.

 

* * *

 

 

       With the warmth of the opening feast still on their minds, the Slytherin first years made their way down into the dark, cool dungeons, led by Gemma Farley and her twin brother Aurelio. As they went deeper and deeper into the dungeons of Hogwarts, the quieter the surroundings got. Where the décor in the main area of the castle was clamorous with its colors and movement, the paintings, tapestries, and light in the dungeons were generally more subdued in tone and subject, with a few points of bright, jewel colors to break through the darkness. Eventually the group got to a black stone wall with a large blank spot in the middle.

       "Alright, this is the entrance to our common room," said Aurelio. "The password to get in changes every two weeks, and when it does you'll see it on the notice board." Gemma turned to the blank wall and said,

       "The password now is chiaroscuro." At the last word, uttered firmly, the dark stones disappeared to reveal a short passageway that led into a grand-looking room. The back windows showed the green depths of the Great Lake, with its many strange creatures. At the moment, a small merman was floating near one of the windows and tapping the glass with a stick. The low, vaulted ceiling of the room had green and silver lanterns hanging down alongside black stalactites. There was a lot of dark wooden furniture (especially bookshelves), as well as black and green leather chairs and sofas. Between the back windows a large fireplace, which was situated under a snake emblem hewn into the wall, provided heat and light. All around the walls of the Common Room elaborate, medieval tapestries depicted scenes of people. Some were speaking, some were singing, some were working at some magical experiment, some faced some strange beast or foe, among many other diverse feats. The Farley twins went and stood in the middle of the Common Room, where several other upperclassmen were waiting. Gemma waited for the first-years to quiet down, smiling, before saying proudly,

       "Welcome to Slytherin, the House of ambition, determination, resourcefulness, leadership, and cunning!" "All of us here have ambition, the seeds of greatness. Who here knows what they want to do?" asked Aurelio. A few seconds ticked by before a red-haired boy raised his hand.

       "What's your name?" "I'm John White," the boy replied.

       "And what's your ambition?"

       "I'm not going to be poor anymore!" he confidently said. The Farley twins smiled and clapped appreciatively, joined by a few of the other students. More first years raised their hands after this, and one by one all of them were called upon. A tall girl with her hair in a bob, named Caroline Odell, wanted to start her own fashion line. Jerome Katz, a short, chubby boy, wanted to become a powerful Auror. A very skinny girl named Zlata Alkaeva wanted to create new laws in the Ministry of Magic. When those who knew what their ambition was had been called on, Gemma continued,

       "If you don't know what you want to do yet, that's O.K. You still have ambition, and a will and ability to pursue that ambition. That's what separates us from the other Houses. Everyone has dreams, but we have the drive to achieve those dreams no matter the cost. Some past members of Slytherin have been Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is currently a highly respected Auror working for the Ministry of Magic, Phineas Nigellus Black, a former headmaster of the school, and Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time! Really, I can't think of why anyone would want to be in another House. Now, you need to know a bit more about your new Housemates and the rules we have."

       "Professor Severus Snape is our Head of House," stated Aurelio, shifting to sit casually in a large, green armchair. "That means he's in charge of most things pertaining to Slytherin House - including disciplining Slytherin students in most cases - and also, of course, what happens with the Slytherin Quidditch team. Unless there's an unusual circumstance you can't join that yet, unfortunately. When you're in your fifth year, he'll give you advice on your future careers. He's also the potions master, so you'll have a lot of classes with him. My sister Gemma and I are some of your prefects. The other ones are Galatea Petras and Gerald Armistead, who are the fifth-year prefects, and Agni Bhasmatas and Lobelia Kirkland, who are the seventh year prefects." A few of the upperclassmen came forward at the mention of their names. "It's our basic job to make sure you all behave. We can take away House points from other Slytherin students if we feel you aren't living up to our House's great legacy."

       "But, you see," Gemma continued, leaning on Aurelio's armchair, "we're a House that pulls together, so that's not all we do. We make sure all is well in Slytherin, so to speak. Or, we make sure you all make it that way. It's inevitable that not all of us will get along, but we are in the same House so that we can help each other achieve the greatness that the Hat saw in each of us. No, we're definitely not all best friends, but we won't stand for feuds between our members, and we present a united face to the other Houses. If we catch you harassing another Slytherin, or if you can't stop bickering with one, we'll take care of the problem. There is another side to this, though. If we find out that you're being treated badly by anyone, even a teacher, we'll do all we can to make the situation better. Professor Snape is especially insistent about this policy. You'll feel a lot more confident in Hogwarts with other snakes getting your back."

       "Hmm, what else are we missing?" Gemma mused. "Oh, our House Ghost is the Bloody Baron. You probably noticed him at the opening feast just now. He's the ghost with the chains and bloodstains all over him. We like to think that he's the scariest ghost in the castle. He barely talks, and then only to Slytherin students when he's in the mood for it. It's often hard to understand what's he's getting at, and there's a chance he won't quite remember your name, but he has been known to give people good advice – or at the very least interesting advice. If you really get on his good side he'll sometimes even agree to scare someone in particular for you."

       "Now, your dormitories are this way," she said, gesturing to a stone archway to the left of the room. "You'll find green and silver ties to add to your uniforms there. The girls' dormitories are to the left down that hallway, and the boys' are to the right. But before you go, there's a word of warning we've had to add on to our welcoming speech." At this, the first years who had eagerly started towards the hallway leading to their waiting beds stopped and turned back towards the prefects warily. Astoria could feel their trepidation, as well as a cold feeling settle in her own stomach.

       "We've always been the least popular House in Hogwarts almost since the beginning, since we're supposedly all Dark Arts enthusiasts or pure-blood supremacists – which isn't true, obviously, as I'm sure some of you are muggle-borns. I suppose those are the type of people the other students like to pay the most attention to, though. Last year, however, things have changed a bit since the incident with the basilisk. I'm sure you've all heard of it by now. If not, you can ask one of us about it later. But anyway, this basilisk – a giant, magical snake, basically - was hiding in a secret part of the castle built by our founder nearly one thousand years ago for security purposes. It almost killed a few students until it was finally put down, and the whole school was terrified. Including us, mind you, but no one seems to remember that. Anyway, that really put us on the school's blacklist." At this, Gemma sighed. The room was quiet now except for the sound of gently moving water outside the windows.

       "Now, we're not necessarily saying that you should be paranoid and not socialize outside of our family here, but just don't get your hopes too high. Try not to get into trouble, because it will probably end up being your fault, even if it really wasn't." A few upperclassmen, including Graham Montague, added their assent from behind Gemma.

       "Be on the lookout for 'jokes,' especially from Gryffindors," he interjected. "Well, mostly just the Weasley twins. They aspire to be the proud owners of a joke shop, but it's more likely that they'll end up in Azkaban for a particularly whimsical manslaughter or two. Never accept anything from them, especially candy."

       "Oh, don't worry too much," Aurelio quickly added, trying to make his demeanor as cheery as it was before. "Remember what we said earlier. We look out for each other. No one can hurt us if we stick together." A bit of the fear in the group of first-years was lifted, but Astoria went to her bed without any of her anxieties assuaged. After an hour or so of tossing under the comfortable green sheets and listening to the thoughts of her peers, the sound of the push and pull of the lake lulled her to sleep.


	3. Mental Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Astoria remembers a painful memory and spends some quality time with Professor Snape.

       "Daphne, don't wear those! You'll offend Mr. Rowle!" said Laudine Greengrass, Astoria and Daphne's mother, who was doing her best to make her girls presentable to the honored peer coming to dine with them.

       "That's the idea." Daphne, ever the rebellious child, had worn some combat boots that she had bought on her many trips to the nearby town of Bangor. With her beautiful, pale yellow dress robes, the black leather boots stood out like funeral-goers at a wedding. The golden shoes intended for the dress were lying disused in the corner of Daphne's spacious, amber-colored bedroom.

       "Oh, stop it, Daph! You're so stupid! You just think you're better than us," said Astoria angrily. She had been sitting in her sister's room for a while now, already wearing her rose-colored gown and silver shoes. She was waiting for the moment of Mr. Rowle's arrival by staying where all the action was at the moment.

       "Honestly, Daphne, I thought I got rid of all of that Muggle trash you brought home. Now we're just going to sit here until you take them off and put on the shoes I bought for you." At this, their mother took a seat on the bed in front of Daphne and crossed her legs, staring at her trouble child with a stony expression on her naturally gentle face. Daphne sighed deeply after a few frigid seconds and slipped out of the boots, stalking past Astoria's place at the large window overlooking the forest surrounding their mansion to get to her intended dinner shoes. It was nearing the gloaming of twilight now, and the soft orange light was slanting through the tall window weakly and giving everything in the room an old, nostalgic look. Now that Daphne's little rebellion had been quelled, the two sisters followed their mother, who had adorned herself in a peach-colored dress as beautiful and dainty as theirs, out of the bedroom into the upstairs hallway. Everything in the mansion was lush and warm. The wallpaper, a pale gold and cream, depicted a stylized forest much like the one outside. Here and there a white bird peeped through the paper foliage. Hunting trophies, both recent and ancient, adorned the walls and some corners of the house. Much of the wall space and all of the stairs and floor was polished oak, carved into intricate floral patterns. Suits of armor and medieval weapons, tokens from the time when the old Greengrasses often employed their use, seemed to sit in vigil in the halls. The house elves had set out multicolored bouquets to welcome the family's peer, a pureblood businessman and politician. Eventually the trio encountered Owain, Astoria and Daphne's father, at the bottom of the stairs. He looked positively medieval in his dark red, fur-trimmed robes.

       "Daphne, I'm going to have a talk with you tonight. Go to the entrance hall to greet our guest," said her father in an icy voice. The grin Daphne was wearing slid from her face quickly as a similar grin spread across Astoria's face. She had gone a bit too far, it seemed. After Daphne and Mrs. Greengrass left, Owain turned to Astoria, smiling warmly.

       "Now, I know you don't like being around new people, Astoria. If he makes you uncomfortable, just try to focus on your mother's thoughts or mine. Alright?" He affectionately patted her on the head with his large, beefy hand, and Astoria nodded shyly.

       "Alright, Daddy." Astoria had gotten used to the thoughts of her parents, which were almost always loving and affectionate when it came to her and even her sister. It was easy to get caught up in their feelings and opinions, though there were some things in their heads Astoria couldn't understand. Daphne, on the other hand, constantly annoyed her with her disdainful thoughts of her, her family, and her family's philosophy and way of life. Everything about their family was embarrassing to Daphne now, including Astoria herself. The older sister couldn't wait until she was old enough to go to Hogwarts in two years, and Astoria shared her sentiment for once.

       When Astoria and her father got to the entrance hall, Mr. Rowle - a smart-looking man - was already there, chatting with Daphne and Mrs. Greengrass about some nicety or another. Astoria soon got an impression of what the guest was like, and what she saw confused her. Rowle's thoughts were barely focused on the family, the house, or even what they were going to eat for dinner. He kept jumping back to a series of related images that she couldn't understand. They were in a dark room with only a small beam of light falling on…what? There seemed to be dirty pile of sheets crumpled into one corner of the dark room. Before she could get a better look, the image was gone, replaced by quickly thrown-together courses of action designed to charm his hosts.

       "And what's your name, pretty young lady? Rowle asked with a saccharine voice that made Astoria uncomfortable.

       "My name is Astoria. I am very pleased to meet you," she said quietly as she curtseyed. Mr. Greengrass led his guest through the highly decorated entrance hall to the dining room, which earlier had had many elves scurrying around, trying to make the food and the dinner table pristine and beautiful. Soon, they were sitting down to the supper that the house elves had set on the table -- red meat. Because she was beginning to be disturbed by their guest's erratic thoughts, she began to try to focus on the conversation Rowle and her father were having.

       "I don't know if you know this, Mr. Rowle, but our family has kept our traditional fief since we won it from a dark warlock in the tenth century. Of course, nowadays people don't need protection from bands of robbers or Muggle mobs. So, what we do now is – how do you say – ensure harmony and peace in our fiefdom. If there's a dangerous politician gaining power, we put an end to it. If crime is on the rise, we put some of our own people on the streets. The one thing I've learned from Muggles and their history is that you can't trust them not to make the world worse for everyone. So, we don't let them. I suspect they have a lower propensity for intelligence and empathy than our kind, you see," said Mr. Greengrass, putting as much emotion and energy into his words as possible, as if he were performing to an audience. "We like to think of ourselves as Muggle shepherds." Mr. Rowle smiled, chuckling. Astoria and her mother joined in. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daphne making a face.

       "We really protect the greater good don't we?" Rowle replied, raising his glass of red wine. "So, remind me of that new investment you're undertaking, Owain. I'm a bit forgetful lately." Astoria caught a strong thought from him after he said this, taking a bite of his meat.

_For the love of God, please let me out…wait! Wait! I…I still hurt from the last time! No!_  Astoria dropped the fork that she had in her hand, her eyes wide. Whatever this was, she didn't want to hear or see any more of it.

       "May I please be excused?" she asked as smoothly as she could manage, her voice breaking a little on the word "please."

       "Darling! Don't be rude!" her mother quickly snapped, turning quickly to smile apologetically at Rowle. Mr. Greengrass glanced at his daughter and his wife, conflicted.

       "Are you feeling ill, Astoria?" he asked, sensing his daughter's growing panic. "If so, I'm sure Mr. Rowle won't mind if you step out for a while."

       "Oh, no, not at all, young lady," he said jovially. Astoria looked at her mother for approval, and she grudgingly nodded. She hastily started to reset her place at the table to indicate that she was finished, and as she was doing this she could feel Rowle's feverish thoughts struggle in vain to focus on the situation he was in at the moment. Suddenly the image of the thin, bruised face of a woman bubbled up into her mind like gore from a wound. The woman's good eye moved and opened wide with terror, and a hoarse, desperate scream was let out. She could see hands moving to untie something below her – or Rowle's – line of sight, and in a few moment the woman's face (now closer to her view) twisted into a rictus of pain. Astoria found herself transfixed in shivering fascination, and she couldn't tear herself away from the unity between herself and Rowle. In the next flash of image and sound, intense and painful, she saw hands covered in blood in the dark, and she heard the sound of labored breathing and soft moaning. Was it the woman or Rowle? She didn't know. Soon, all she could hear was piercing screaming going on and on. Her vision was blurred with tears.

       The next thing she knew, her father was picking her up from the floor where she had apparently fallen, trying to calm her. It appeared the crazed shrieking was hers. The red from the visions turned to the red from the food and drink she had spilled, and soon she could make out the faces of her family, Rowle, and a few house elves who had come to help with the disturbance.

       "Get him out of here!" she yelled at the top of her voice, lifting a shaking finger at Rowle. "He's hurting someone! Make him go away! He's evil!" An angry house elf quickly tried to drag the guest out into the entrance hall in the absence of an order from either Mr. or Mrs. Greengrass, who stared from the guest to Astoria, bewildered. Astoria quickly got up, swatting away her father's hand and sprinting for the stairs as fast as she could, not stopping until she reached her room, where she closed and locked the door behind her. Outside her window, the moon was rising and the sky was dark, so she closed the curtains. Astoria left her room dark and tried to remember what she had thought about the world before.

 

* * *

 

       "Miss Greengrass, are you alright?" Again, Astoria found herself on the floor, this time on all fours with her hand in front of her mouth, feeling nauseated. Professor Snape helped her up and sat her in a large armchair facing the fireplace in his office. She sighed deeply and didn't answer. She seemed to be absorbed in the hissing wood being consumed with flames in the hearth.

       "What do you think broke your concentration?" Snape asked after a few minutes of tense silence. He was now standing stiffly to the side of her chair, his hands raised, then lowered, then ultimately clasped behind his back.

       "Probably you breaking in like a psychopath!" she shouted tearfully, her voice breaking down at the last word.

       "Ms. Greengrass, you will not be able to prevent unconscious mental intrusion if you cannot prevent intentional intrusion. Those are the simple facts. Now, why do you think your concentration broke?"

       "I don't know! I don't want to examine myself under a microscope all the time, it's depressing!"

       "You must. Someone of your unusual talents has more responsibility than an ordinary child – even a magical child. Listen!" Snape snapped, as Astoria turned away from him. "When other people use Legilimency, like me, they sift through the victim's mind at will. The victim relives all thoughts, emotions, and memories to an extent that a Legilimens with good control decides. With you, it's the opposite. You are a magnet for mental intrusions, and you have no control over what you see or feel! You even told me you are forced into others' dreams sometimes! Do you want to stay that way? I will ask you again: what broke your concentration?"

       "I told you, I don't know!" wailed Astoria. "And anyway, if a good Legilimens can control how much the victim relives the memories and stuff, then why did you make me relive  _that_  memory? You're a…a… horrible tutor!" A bitter grin spread across the professor's mouth.

       "That was not I. I tried to stop it when it came up, but you forced that memory to replay," Snape tried to explain in a calm voice, though that was hard to do through gritted teeth.

       "And you watched?" she asked with tears in her eyes, contorting her face in rage.

       "Of course I did. I am trying to understand you and what makes your power work the way it does. Please calm down, Miss Greengrass."

       "No!" she shouted, her high-pitched voice hurting his ears. "How would you feel if I did that to you?  _Legilimens_!" At this, she leaped up from the chair, thrusting her silver lime wood wand in Snape's direction and concentrating all of her will on penetrating the professor's mental defense. All she accomplished after a minute of growling in fury was a flash of Snape's point of view at the moment (probably conceded to her willingly): a short little girl with an astonishingly ugly look on her face, shaking in rage. Astoria dropped her wand in hot shame and turned towards the door, her hair shielding her red face.

       "Very well," Snape said darkly, dropping off into silence.

       The walk back to the Common Room was as silent as a frozen wasteland. Finally, they reached the stone entrance. Snape stated the password –  _chiropteran_  – in his usual monotone drawl, and the black rock silently slid to reveal the Common Room, now lit only by the lamps and a dying fireplace.

       "As usual, Miss Greengrass, do your exercises. Try to focus on an object or a phrase when you start trying to empty your mind," dictated Snape, as if nothing had happened. "And don't forget to keep your daily diary."

       "Yes, Professor," Astoria replied as the Common Room entrance closed in behind her.


	4. Oneironaut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Astoria learns about ghosts, meets Draco Malfoy again, and makes some progress in controlling her Legilimency abilities.

            Professor Lupin was talking about ghosts that day.  It was an unusually hot day for autumn, and sunlight from the large glass windows was shining brightly into Astoria’s eyes. They were having this particular Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the first year Hufflepuffs, and apparently there had been some drama among a few of the girls recently.   Astoria could tell because their furious thoughts were preventing her from paying attention to the professor’s lesson. Two in particular could not seem to concentrate on anything but this petty feud.

            _I can’t believe she told Brian about it! I thought she was my friend!..._

 _That hare-brain Garnet! Why she expects me to do everything she wants me to I don’t know…._   One other was also preoccupied with the situation, but this one was glowing with prideful happiness.

_Those two fools don’t see that he already likes me more than them.  I hope they both jinx each other in some idiotic duel tonight..._

Astoria shook her head furiously, trying to rouse her drooping eyelids. The food she had eaten from lunch seemed to weigh her down.  Professor Lupin had moved to the small chalkboard provided to the room, trying to clear the board of notes Astoria hadn’t written down yet.  She desperately tried to write down what she saw before Lupin erased it, succeeding only at getting the last two lines.  He started talking again.  What was he saying?

            “Practically, they aren’t very dangerous to living people, except for those with heart conditions, but they are considered by some to be dark because they are created by something that seems to prevent a natural, healthy process,” Lupin said as energetically as he could, though he occasionally lost his train of thought and yawned.  Astoria skipped a few lines to make room for the notes that she missed while she was distracted. Even now, the buzzing of angry thinking threatened her concentration. 

            “Sir Absolon de Bernay here has graciously agreed to demonstrate the effects that the manifestation of human spirits has on some physical elements,” the professor continued.  The ghost of a knight with an arrow sticking out of the visor in his helmet, floating next to a desk with various materials in bowls, gave a little wave.  He then hovered his hand over the bowl of burning charcoal, the flames of which flickered and turned a pale blue.

            “Now, you may remember from any scientific education you’ve had that blue fire is hotter than normal fire.  This is true in this case, even though ghosts usually have the effect of making an environment cooler.  It is not known why this is the case for fire,” Lupin continued.  Astoria got that down in her notes before a strong wave of drowsiness came over her and a thought broke into her consciousness.

 _I’m so embarrassed I wish I could just die!_ Astoria’s hand messed up a letter that she was in the process of writing. 

_I hate her I hate her I hate her!_

_Look at her, just sitting there as if nothing happened and she’s the best person in the world._ Astoria tried to rouse herself by stabbing her fingertips with the dull point of the purple ballpoint pen she had bought for five galleons from John White, the feeling of her anger rising in her chest like bile.  She had apparently missed the rest of the demonstration by the ghost of the knight, as he had moved away from the table.  Astoria blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus.  She briefly considered walking up to the ghost and sticking her head in his chest to wake herself up.

            “Spirits can speak any language, even if they had no way of knowing it in life,” said Lupin. “Can anyone here speak a language or dialect other than English?”  She raised her hand drowsily, hoping that interacting with the teacher could help her pay attention.

            “Oh? What language do you speak, Miss, ah, Bluegrass, was it?” the professor asked.  The ghost turned his helmed head to face her, staring with black voids where his eyes must have been.  Feeling chilled, Astoria answered,

            “It’s Greengrass.  I speak Welsh, sir.”

            “Oh, sorry, Miss Greengrass.  Sir de Bernay, could you speak Welsh?” 

            “No, I lived entirely in France and Northern England in life,” the ghost answered in a hoarse voice that echoed in his phantom armor. “In fact they did not even speak this form of English in my day.”

            “Miss Greengrass, please ask Sir de Bernay a question in Welsh and judge for us whether or not he sounds like he knows the language well,” said Lupin. Astoria thought for a minute, trying to block out her unique distractions.  Oddly, now that she had been asked to speak Welsh, she couldn’t think of anything to say. She finally settled on something basic.

            “O ble wyt ti’n dod?” she asked.  The rest of the children were staring at her.  Despite herself, she felt her cheeks get warmer.  She hoped it was just the sunlight from the windows.

            “Dw i’n dod o Normandi,” answered the knight, with perfect pronunciation. “O ble ydych chi’n dod?”

            “Dw i’n dod o Gwynedd,” she answered, shocked.  “That was good Welsh, professor.” 

 _Showoff_ , someone thought irritably. Lupin went on to a different point after thanking her for participating, and Astoria checked her watch. It was only halfway through the class period, she realized to her horror.  Meanwhile, Lupin had moved on to a different subject.

            “You may be wondering whether or not Peeves is a ghost.  Strictly speaking, he, or it, rather, is not. It, like other poltergeists, is the dregs of the various strong emotions of anger, mischievousness, et cetera of people, especially adolescents…”

_I wonder what homework I should do tonight.  I don’t think I can do that whole assignment in one night…_

_Is everyone in my year a complete git or a weirdo?  I swear I can’t relate to anyone my age…_

_Is it too much to ask for the house elves to make some plain sandwiches once in a while?  I am sick and tired of…_

_Look at the blood coming out from under that ghost’s helmet.  I wonder if it would be rude to ask him to show me the wound…_ The heat of the classroom was making the rich smell of dusty parchment permeate the stagnant air.  Suddenly, Astoria felt nauseous.  What was the professor writing on the board now?  Something about “non-beings.”  She hurriedly resumed writing her notes, trying to focus only on the sound of her breathing and heartbeat, like Professor Snape instructed, her wrists pressed against her ears.  A tall boy sitting two rows in front of her was passed a note.  Two Hufflepuff girls off to the left giggled quietly, and Professor Lupin paused his writing until it subsided.  The boy covertly opened it, and tensed up. Astoria could see, now that it had attracted her attention, that it read “Do you like her back?” The boy was afraid of the consequences of his answer.  He did not like whoever it was.  She could almost feel the sweat on her own face as it started to bead up on his.  He wrote the truth on the note and passed it back.

           The other Hufflepuff students noticed and started a barely-concealed, manic dance of delight and painful empathy.  The expressions on the girls’ faces when they got the note back got everyone in the room’s attention, including the Slytherins.  What was the teacher writing on the board now? Astoria started writing it down again, leaving another big gap to fill in later.  “Similar to bioluminescence, but with the lack of anything living or material…”

_I can’t wait to give this to her! That’ll take her down a peg!_

_Hope they shut up soon, this is getting really distracting…_

_This is all so stupid. Romance is stupid…_

            “Miss Greengrass, are you all right?”  It took a second or two for Astoria to discern that that voice was spoken instead of thought.

            “What?” she said.  She realized she had her head on her desk, with her wrists still pressed tight to her ears.

            “Oh. I think…” she looked at Professor Lupin to try and judge his mood.  “I think I need to go.  May I go to your office later to catch up on notes?”  Professor Lupin stood there, obviously confused, but then he remembered being told about a special student by the Headmaster and Professor Snape. Astoria saw a snippet of that conversation: Professor Dumbledore looking down his bespectacled nose sagely at her – or Professor Lupin, rather – saying,

 _I trust you’ll treat this student with the care that her special condition affords, as you understand what that is like yourself…_   Then, a night sky illuminated by a full moon, viewed in blurry glimpses as a field of grass moved by shakily.  Professor Lupin suddenly smiled warmly, empathy radiating from him.  

            “Ah yes, you may go, Miss Greengrass.  Perhaps we can talk after class.”  The whole class was looking at her now, curious and disapproving.  Some were envious, others suspected her of somehow manipulating the teacher unfairly.  She tried not to care as she walked out of the narrow stone passage to the hallway. That was her last class of the day, so she supposed she would go find a secluded spot in the library to try to do homework until around dinner time.

 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

            Astoria started descending the stairs to go to the hallway that would take her to Professor Lupin’s office. She was hungry, but she was impatient to get the notes over with.  The small, high windows built to hide from hostile penetration showed the sky had a violet dye now.  As she was nearing the bend that would take her to the second floor, the echoing sound of Peeves’ ghoulish crooning floated down to her.  Astoria quickened her pace, shivering.  The last time she had interacted with it, it had tied her hair to the back of the chair she had been napping in.  It had taken her an hour to free herself, and she missed a Herbology class – a missed class that cost her dearly with her already poor marks. Who knew what would happen if it found her today?  She fled down the steps, her heart thudding in her ears, barely touching a step before alighting on the next one.  Somewhere up above her, Peeves cackled mischievously, hearing the running footsteps.  

          After Astoria’s next step, she felt the stone of the staircase envelop her leg up to her shin. Her momentum prevented her from stopping herself or pulling her foot out safely.  Gravity pulled her downwards, and she felt searing hot pinpricks of pain in her trapped leg, now pushed against the edge of the trick step. More and more pinpricks stabbed into her leg until a burning ring tightening around it, cutting through to her bone. Astoria heard a cracking noise, and she let out a piercing wail, more from surprise than pain. Gravity was working against her once again as more stone steps rushed up to greet her.  She barely brought up her arms in time to protect her face. In panic, she realized her right leg, now free of the step, was beginning to numb.  There was no way she could run on it now.

          “Someone help me!” Astoria yelled. 

           “Oooh, that’s a shame!   Is another little bitty first-year stuck again?  Let Peevsie help you!” it squealed.  At this, Astoria started to crawl down the stair, trying not to let her injured leg touch the floor. She dared to look at it – half of the shin was bent forward unnaturally, and red splotches were quickly appearing under the skin.  The pain pulsing through her body from her shin was too distracting for her to hear footsteps come up beside her.

           “Hold still,” a familiar, male voice said.  Astoria looked up to see a pair of hands descending from above her to grip her shoulders. He tugged upwards, and soon she was leaning against a lanky boy.  The boy, who was wearing a Gryffindor tie, put his arm underneath hers and started helping her further down the stairs.  Astoria looked up at his face, and his pleasant, deep brown eyes. Her heavy breathing turned as silent as she could muster and she became even hotter than she was because of her leg.

            “Oh, it’s you,” he said in a voice that was suddenly almost emotionless, masking the swell of disgust that came from him.  Piercing memories flashed in his consciousness: the old road, the Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum he had brought, the old woodsman’s house.  She tried with all of her might to ignore them.

            “Tristan, do you know any painkilling spells?” she hissed through her gritted teeth.

            “No, they don’t teach us anything like that here,” he replied.  Tristan paused for a minute, his hands lifting off her a couple of times, but he began to help her down the staircase.  His focus turned from the best way to carry her down the steps to her uniform – specifically her green and silver tie. 

            The next flight of stairs was in a hush, except for Astoria’s gasps of pain.  His hands felt white-hot on her, though he kept them from touching her as much as possible.  Whenever they had more contact, she felt a stirring of hope, but then he recoiled in subtle horror.

            “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she started. Before the boy could say anything, a few steps from the first floor, the body of a stunted, misshapen little man materialized before their faces.  The brightness of the colors it wore contrasted with the way they faded into the background like a sad memory and the blackness of its malevolent eyes. Its face was so wrinkled with its smile that it seemed almost to be turning in on itself.

            “I bet you forgot about me, huh?” Peeves whispered in its fluty voice.  Tristan, leading Astoria, tried to sidestep the spirit, but it moved, giving them both a little destabilizing push backwards.

            “Baron!” Astoria shot out in panic.  “I’ll tell the Bloody Baron you were preventing me from getting to the Hospital Wing!” The poltergeist’s shark-like smile faltered.

            “So?  Why does he care about what you say?” it sang.

            “I’m a Slytherin. He’s my House Ghost,” Astoria said more confidently.  “In fact, I’m one of his favorite students.”  Peeves floated in place, apparently thinking hard.  Finally, he blew a loud raspberry and rapidly ascended back up the staircase, leaving the path to the Hospital Tower relatively clear.

            Pain flashed up her leg again. Tristan hurried, and soon they reached the Hospital Wing, where a large group of students had congregated. He rushed her in, where Madam Pomfrey was not immediately visible.  Astoria strained to pick her out of the crowd – perhaps her delirious mind failed to recognize her – when she came out of her storeroom towards the bed in the center of all the students with a pale, crystalline potion. 

            “It wasn’t- I didn’t-“ Astoria started.  Tristan left her on a bed before she could attempt to continue.  She left her arms hovering in the air like she had them when he was supporting her before realizing that he was gone. The pain in her leg brought her back from the disappointment of his absence.  Where was Madam Pomfrey?  The cloud of feelings and snatches of thought in the room had the air of a crowd at a freak show – pity, amusement, a little fear, and quite a bit of derision.

            The children parted for the Matron, revealing a blond boy with his left arm in bandages. He had contorted his face in a theatrical grimace of pain.  His eyebrows seemed to almost be disappeared under his loose bangs.  She wondered whether he would put the back of his hand on his forehead, like the fainting women in the books and plays her mother enjoyed. She remembered him from the common room, but she could not quite remember his name at the moment. At any rate, she could not concentrate very well at the moment.  She looked to the door to see if Tristan was coming back.

            “What seems to be the – oh, poor dearie!” said Madam Pomfrey.  Apparently she was done with the blond boy, as she had walked up beside Astoria. She promptly fetched some medical supplies from her office and got to work on the broken leg. First, with a little crunch that made Astoria gasp, she straightened the leg with a wave of her wand. With more silent spells the red splotches, which had turned purple, receded and the pain numbed. Finally, Madam Pomfrey conjured a splint and some bandages that wrapped around the leg firmly.

            “Is that better, dear?” asked the healer, smiling benignly.

            “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied quietly, distracted.  There were so many people thinking and speaking excitedly in the room that she could barely piece out the kindly old woman’s fatigued, frustrated thoughts.

            “You should be able to leave tomorrow morning after I check it again.  Just tell me if you feel anything unusual.  I want to make sure it heals correctly,” she said. To distract herself from her situation and whom she had just met, Astoria tried to figure out what had happened to draw so many people into the Hospital Wing.  It was obviously because of the dramatic one over there. She knew what his name was, if she could only place it.  He was from a family that her parents didn’t like, a Dark family.  Oh, right, Malfoy.  And he had a Greek-sounding name.  Plutarch, maybe? Solon?  Phanourios?

_Maybe I can get Hagrid fired.  I hope I can, it’s not like he actually deserves the job, but there’s no way Dumbledore will fire someone he likes…_

            What was she thinking about? Ah, Draco? Yes, that sounded right. Draco Malfoy.  Well, if that strong thought was from him, he probably had the right idea.  Astoria had heard some stories from the older Slytherins – Hagrid seemed like a decent person, but a horrible teacher.  But what had happened? Obviously something had happened to his left arm.  There here more bandages on his forearm, so most likely something hurt him there.

_This is getting pathetic…_

_Not very interesting.  It would’ve been better if he_ really _got hurt…_

 _God, what a tool…_   Interesting. That last one was a member of the Quidditch team.  People were leaving rather quickly now, leaving only Marcus Flint, Crabbe, Goyle, Graham, and Daphne. Flint and Graham were talking to Malfoy, trying to get him to return to practice sooner.  Daphne was standing to the side, bored.  She spotted Astoria lying on the bed nearest to the door.

            “Tori? What are you going here?” asked Daphne.

            “Quicksand step. Was running from Peeves. Tristan helped me,” she replied.

            “I told you about the stairs, sis,” she said, embarrassed.  She became a bit softer, though.  “Well, it’s over now, anyway.  So you found Tristan again, huh?  You two used to be best friends. You getting together, now?” Astoria reddened, but did not answer.

            “Greengrass, no one really ‘gets together’ when they’re your age.  They just pretend to.  Isn’t that right, Casanova?” interjected Flint.

            “I was just saying,” said Malfoy, trying to hide his annoyance, “that if it scars, he should probably be punished more because-“

            “Which Greengrass were you talkin’ to, Marcus?” said Daphne.

            “Both of you.”

            “Whatever. I don’t have to take advice from a super seventh-year,” said Daphne, rolling her eyes and smiling slightly. She was thinking about her newest boyfriend in two months, William Holiday, a Ravenclaw.   Flint frowned.

            “Well, I don’t have to take advice from the leader of some mediocre, two-man ‘band’ that practices in unused classrooms.”

            “Hey!” said Daphne, her voice hitching.  “Blood Bath is not mediocre!”  If she weren’t wearing so much white makeup, one could probably see her cheeks becoming pinker.

            “Shall we go to dinner, boys? It’s getting a bit hot in here.” Graham interrupted.  He had his usual smooth, jocular demeanor going, but he was nervous about a fight starting.

            “Oh yeah, how am I supposed to eat up here?” asked Draco indignantly.

            “I have food brought up from the kitchens, dear.  You’ll have to wait until the house elves are cleaning up after they’ve taken care of the rest of the food,” said Madam Pomfrey from within her office. The visitors around Malfoy excused themselves, except for Daphne, who went up to Astoria.  Neither of them could think of anything to say for a few minutes. Daphne wanted to say something nice to her sister.  Astoria felt that the vaults of kindness in her sister’s heart were about to crack open to release a choice gem or two to brighten up her day, but for some reason she was too scared to do it. Her own heart started beating uncomfortably again.

           “Well, you know what I’m thinking anyway,” Daphne finally said.

            “Really? You’re associating with Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle?  You hate those three,” said Astoria in Welsh, as she didn’t want Malfoy to know what they were saying.

            “I can do whatever the hell I want,” said Daphne, in English.  “I ‘associate’ with a lot of people.  Whoever fits my wants and needs at the moment, whatever I think of them and whatever anyone else thinks of them – even family. Especially family. Anyway, we’re all brothers and sisters in this House.  You would do well to remember that.”  Malfoy turned his attention from the medical supplies near his cot to them.

            “I don’t -- Fine. Could you go to Professor Lupin’s office and tell him I can’t come to get the notes?”  Astoria said dejectedly.

            “Sure.  You know, if you really want to see Tristan again, he always sits next to the stained glass window near the library during lunch. “

           “Which one?” Astoria tried to conceal her excitement at the revelation.  She didn’t know how to feel that she now had the ability to contact Tristan again.

           “You can see it perfectly well, can’t you, little miss psychic?” 

            “…Yes.” She suddenly had an idea. “Madam Pomfrey?”

           “Yes, dear?” Madam sounded a bit peeved.

            “Can I have my pet in here?”

           “I’m afraid not, dear. Only in very special circumstances.” Daphne felt relieved – she had guessed that Astoria would want her to bring her toad from her dormitory. She disliked him because he always found his way into places she didn’t want him at home, such as soupspoons or expensive shoes.  That, and he was ugly. That was one thing Daphne and her parents could agree on – they were all mad that Astoria insisted on keeping him.

           “Well, I’ll see you around, Tori,” said Daphne, spinning around smartly and strutting out the door.

            “Don’t forget about Professor Lupin!” Astoria called after her.  Daphne just gave an absentminded wave in response.  Left almost alone now, Astoria got her books out of her bag. She would have to finish her homework here.  Madam Pomfrey was now focused on organizing her medical supplies: a quiet, monotonous activity that made her thoughts quickly become background noise.  Malfoy, on the other hand, was busy thinking feverishly about a trio of Gryffindor third-years, the third-year Slytherins Astoria had seen him associate with, a strange eagle-horse hybrid, a long-haired man Astoria took to be his father, and the dull ache in his left forearm.  She reflexively rubbed her arm in the same spot, forgetting that it wasn’t her own wound for a moment.  

            Her pen hovered above her parchment indefinitely.  She was supposed to be answering some questions about a reading she managed to do in the library, but Malfoy’s fevered, silent musings about the reaction of various people to his ordeal that day, and the hot, stifling feeling of shame and fear that lurked inside her kept her from collecting her thoughts long enough the write anything beyond the word “the.” 

            “You’re really loud, Malfoy, can you go to sleep?” she eventually said irritably.

            “I beg your pardon?” He worked up his righteous indignation once again.

            “I want you to go to sleep. Please go to sleep,” she said, working up her confidence.

            “No.  What are you ta- oh.  Aren’t you supposed to be working on getting control of that power, anyway? Deal with it.” Astoria sighed.

            “Madam Pomfrey, I can hear his thoughts and they’re preventing me from doing my homework that’s due tomorrow,” she called.  “Can you give him a sleeping potion or something?” 

            “Oh, you’re that student I was told about.  I’m afraid that I’m not allowed to give a student a potion that isn’t strictly needed,” she replied. The sun was finally dipping below the horizon now.  It had been so harsh that day, but it was becoming gentler as is slid down the sky like a tear. Malfoy had gotten out of his quiet mood and began asking Madam Pomfrey what various healing tools around the room did, partially out of curiosity, partially to irk Astoria, and partially out of the desire to control the Matron.  Astoria once again tried to concentrate as he worked his way around the Hospital Wing.

           “What does the potion on that table do?”

            “That helps against circulatory shock.”

            “What’s that?”

            “That’s when your blood doesn’t flow around enough and your organs don’t function well.” Madam Pomfrey was getting more and more annoyed, her thoughts becoming vindictive ( _Irksome boy.  Who does he think he is, distracting me like this?_ ). Malfoy scoured the room for more objects of inquiry with glee.  Astoria gripped her pen hard enough to break. 

            “Madam Pomfrey, these questions are due _tomorrow_ ,” she said. Madam Pomfrey was very tempted to give in to Astoria’s wishes.  She said that needed to go get their dinner and left.  The silence that the two patients in the Hospital Wing were left with was broken with a loud croak.  A small, black and yellow-striped toad poked its head from a side pocket of Astoria’s book bag.

            “Spaghetti!” she said with delight.  She pulled Spaghetti out of the pocket, but in her haste dropped him.  The toad hopped over to Malfoy’s bed. 

            “Spaghetti, come back!” she said, in a voice as imperious as she could make it.  Malfoy was filled with derision.

            “Toads don’t understand orders, fool.”

            “This one is weird,” Astoria said defensively.  “He could…he could probably follow orders if he wanted.”

            “I didn’t ask for its life story.” Astoria felt a little heat rise to her cheeks.  She did not feel like giving him the pleasure of an answer, though. She started to pay more attention to what he was thinking.  Mostly, he was just thinking about the best way to humiliate his opponent, just like she was doing. She wanted to know how he got in the Hospital Wing in the first place, but he wasn’t thinking about that now – she needed more control over how “deep” into his mind she went. She tried to push past the outer veil of his current thoughts and step into the inner sanctum of his memories. After some concentration, the mind-numbing babble softened and she could see a group of students standing in a semicircle in near the Forbidden Forest.  Professor Hagrid stood in front of them and said something, but she couldn’t make it out very well.

            _Easily offended…never insult…last thing yeh do…_   The veil was coming back down to protect the memories now, and the vision was blurring.

 _Why the hell are you just sitting there with your eyes shut, you little shit?  You up to anything funny?_   That wasn’t a memory.  So he couldn’t feel what she just did.  Or maybe he could, but he didn’t know it was her bringing up that memory instead of him – but that was unlikely. 

            “It’s not very nice to call me that, you know.  I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman,” she said to him.

            “I am a gentleman. All that means is I am of the nobility. The magical nobility, of course. You are too, but judging by the way your sister acts sometimes you probably don’t knowthat.  I am right, aren’t I?” 

            “Yes,” she said, thinking back to the night with the pureblood dinner guest.  “Anyway, that’s a pretty nasty scram you’ve got there. How’d you get it?” Malfoy became offended, his voice lowering.

            “I have a nasty, what, exactly?”

            “You’ve got a nasty scram. On your arm.  How.  Did. You.  Get.  It?” Astoria drew out and enunciated her speech to insinuate that she was talking to a simpleton. At this, Malfoy thought back to the memory Astoria had been viewing before.  Seeing the spectacled boy -- probably Harry Potter, something of a celebrity even among the first years -- succeed in befriending the griffon-like creature in front of the combined Slytherin and Gryffindor classes, feeling hot jealousy as he noticed signs of admiration in his classmates, strutting up to one of the creatures, getting slashed, being carried to the Hospital Wing by Hagrid, like a damsel in distress.  A large group of Slytherins followed them to the Hospital Wing, which had given Malfoy some comfort to assuage the humiliation. 

           “Hagrid, the great oaf, brought dangerous creatures to class.  One of them attacked me for no reason,” he said, hoping beyond hope that she would believe him after what he presumed she saw.  He had an annoying way of emphasizing words that made him sound sarcastic, even though Astoria knew he was completely serious – as stupid as that was.

            “Oh?  What were the creatures?  Hippocampi, right?”

            “Hippo _griffs_ , fool.  Much more dangerous.”

            “Mmmhmm. And were there any pretty girls that saw you embarrass yourself?  Pansy Parkinson, maybe?”  Astoria made her voice as falsely sweet as she could manage.  Malfoy felt aversion when she mentioned Parkinson, but before he could stop himself, his mind jumped to a buck-toothed girl who was with Harry Potter.  Presumably, she was Hermione Granger, whom he and many of the other third-year, proud pureblood crowd often insulted with glee in the common room.

 _Fuck_ , he thought.  Astoria giggled.

            “Oh, is that why you’re so obsessed with those three?  Do you maybe want to make Potter look bad compared to you?  It’s not working,” she said.

            “No!” he said. It was true.  He also felt the revulsion of sickening envy when she mentioned Potter.  Just as she had suspected when she observed him at the opening feast. 

            “Just wait until I tell the others!“ she said with glee.  Malfoy considered politely asking her not to, but could not bring himself to do it.

           “You know, you’re pretty eloquent when you’re insulting people,” Malfoy began, his voice breaking once. “Too bad you’re pretty useless when you’re trying to have a normal conversation.”  That hit the mark, and he could tell.

           “Oh?!  Well, um, look who’s talking!”

            “Who’s this Tristan fellow you were talking about?  I bet you scared him away with your freakish meddling.”  Astoria didn’t have to answer that, as Spaghetti had somehow gotten to the top of Malfoy’s nightstand.  He only realized that the Harlequin toad was there at that moment.  He picked it up, intending to toss him across the room, but when Spaghetti started screaming the way toads do when they are threatened, he merely dropped it.  He said exactly what he was thinking:

            “How fitting – the tiny, human squeaky toy has a tiny, squeaky pet.  If he’s so special, why don’t you shut him the fuck up?!”  It was Astoria’s turn to smirk, now. 

            “Nah,” she said.

            “What is this I hear?” said Madam Pomfrey, her voice ominous.  Foul language, and an animal in the Hospital Wing?”  Astoria looked around to see her standing in the entranceway, angrily gripping a tray of food that she had presumably gotten from the house elves while she was out.

            “He was in my bag, ma’am! He does that sometimes. I’ll put him back tomorrow morning, I swear!” Astoria said, distressed.  The thought of getting on the bad side of the faculty even more than she already was made her stomach turn.  Madam Pomfrey looked at her suspiciously, not quite believing her.

            “No, that’s out of the question. It might contaminate my potions or knock over my supplies.”  She turned to Malfoy, who thought he was getting off the hook.

            “But what do you have to say for yourself, hmm?  I know what I heard.”

            “Surely you’ve heard swearing before, haven’t you?” he asked, an insolent grin on his lips.

            “Young lady, did he use any other foul language while I wasn’t here?”

            “Why yes,” Astoria said, trying to make herself look and sound as angelic as possible. “He called me a ‘little shit.’” Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows in shock. She turned slowly to Malfoy, and his smile slid slowly from his face.

            “That’s a lie! I never said that! Don’t believe anything she says!” Malfoy almost shouted.

            “Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy.  There will be no more curses or insults in my Hospital Wing, is that clear?”  He didn’t say anything, looking down in rage.

 _Nice job setting us back in the House Cup, freak. Like we need it,_ he thought.

 _I could say the same to you_ , she thought back before remembering he could not hear her.  Instead she just attempted to imitate Daphne’s hair flip. Madam Pomfrey set the trays of food on their nightstands in a huff, snatching up Spaghetti when she came to Malfoy’s domain. The toad started screaming louder than he was when Malfoy grabbed him, making the Matron’s eyebrows furrow even more.

             “I suppose I’ll have to bring this creature down to your Head of House to repatriate. Merlin, I don’t like disturbing that man,” she grumbled walking out of he Hospital Wing again. Malfoy tried to look like he was paying no attention to either of them, starting his meal without talking, but anticipating an insult or threat from Astoria.  She was torn between tormenting him further and keeping quiet. She settled on the latter, as it may lead to him quieting down and going to sleep.  Then, maybe, she could do her homework.  Perhaps she could do more of Professor Snape’s practices while she waited.  Her meal was apparently reheated, judging by the slightly chewy texture of the shepherd’s pie. It was delicious, nonetheless. She ate quickly and lied down on her soft bed - her soft, warm bed - and became aware of how tired she was.

            The ceiling of the Hospital Wing was very tall.  It was beautiful with its vaulted arches and pinkish-grey stonework, but the grandeur seemed unnecessary. Now that she thought if it, some other things seemed unnecessary in the castle as well, such as the trap stairs, the moving stairways, and the rooms in the dungeons that looked like they used to be prisons or torture chambers. They should probably get rid if the trick steps, at least.  Obviously, they did more harm than good in modern times, when there was clearly no need to injure or confuse invaders. 

            Malfoy was thinking about his homework now – several exercise pages of a potions book.  Hopefully Astoria could do her own homework while Malfoy was thinking of his.  She began by trying to meditate like Professor Snape instructed.  On the ceiling where some of the arrises met there was a stone carving of the head of a many-eyed angel enveloped by its six wings.  She followed the cycle of its overlapping feathers around and around and around, and then tried to count its eyes. 

            It was a bit challenging, considering some of them were underneath its wavy hair, and that the carving was so far away on the ceiling.  It was also hard to tell if Malfoy’s thoughts were growing fainter, but if she tried to tell, that would break her concentration.  After a few minutes she became entranced with the veiny, delicate stone and the angel’s intent stare. For a moment, it almost felt like the voices in her head – both hers and Malfoy’s – fell away and she floated up to meet the creature, pulled by its inscrutable gaze.  But like the dreams where you are falling and you wake up, Astoria became sharply aware of her surroundings with a jolt that made her chest hurt. 

 _I’ll have to write that down for Snape,_ she thought. _I wonder what did it._ Those questions weren’t doing themselves, so she reread the passage she had attempted to write about before. She found it easier this time for some reason. Perhaps it was because Malfoy had become sleepy, or because she had gotten energy from her meal. Before too long the essential homework was finished, and she went to sleep.

 

-M-A-

 

            Torn from a dream she could no longer remember, Astoria was suddenly aware that she was no longer inside her own head. She was standing in a wide expanse blank with snow.  There were no colors that she could see, just the blinding whiteness of the ground, the ash color of the sky, and the black of an austere shadow, cast by a large mansion that was almost too far away to see, that stretched itself an eerily impossible length along the earth.  A few snow-covered trees stood far away from each other, lonely.  Having nothing else to do, Astoria out towards the mansion. It seemed no matter how long she walked towards her destination, it never got any closer. There it lay, exactly at the same place on the flat horizon as it had before.  The snow crunched like glass under her bare feet, and a cutting wind blew steely gray feathers into her face, leaving little red scratches. She stopped, holding out her hands to shield herself.  The sound of crunching footsteps continued and grew louder.  A laugh carried to her ears, hard to make out.  

            Hearing this, her heart started beating like the wings of a bird in a cage.  Not bothering to look behind her, Astoria sprinted towards the dark house in the distance, finally able to pass into its colossal shadow. Her vision blurred with exhaustion, and she could barely force air into her stinging lungs. Whoever was following her quickened his pace, and soon she could feel his chilling breath on the back of her neck.  Just as his fingers started to grip her hair, her foot hit something buried under the shards of snow that was now sable.  As she fell in numb surprise, her hunter seemed to pass through her, continuing to run off into the distance, laughing all the way.  Whatever she tripped over stirred, and clumps of the glasslike snow fell from it softly.  Astoria used her bleeding hands to push the snow away from the figure to reveal a sleeping child. She stood him up and shook him, suddenly wanted him to wake up with an irrational passion. He had to wake up, or the other person would come back and kill her with his ghostly voice.  In the distance, a clock chimed a triumphant tune that made her feel some peace despite herself.  The child started to cry tar-like tears.  Without opening his eyes, he whispered

             “Go away.”

 

            Astoria jolted awake, gasping and whispering curses.  It was still nighttime.  The weak silver feather of a moon barely gave enough illumination to show the ghostly tops of the nightstands through the windows.  Apparently, when she had what appeared to be a even small breakthrough, her powers came back to haunt her worse than usual. She would have to write that down for Snape, too.  She scowled, imagining the look of his face when he knew she had slipped.  He’d probably say something to the effect of,

            “Can you even… _conceive_ …of how much…trrrouble…you are giving me? And you… _seem_ …to be giving no…effort to your part of our little…arrangement.” Despite her foul mood, she smiled at her little caricature of his slow, deliberate speaking cadence and habit of rolling his “r’s.”  She had to look on the bright side – at least it wasn’t another one of those kinds of dream that her parents told her they would tell her about when she got a little older.

            Nevertheless, after that less than pleasant encounter being in either Malfoy or Madam Pomfrey’s dream, she did not want to go back to sleep then.  Astoria reached under the cover and felt her leg.  It felt absolutely normal: no swelling, and completely straight. She paused a little before venturing farther down, holding her breath a little before pressing the place where it had broken.  No pain, even when she pressed hard.  She slid quietly out of the sheets, put her shoes back on, and took her wand from her nightstand. She crept out slowly, starting with the blades of her feet and rolling them to the softer parts, like Daphne had showed her.  When she had gotten out of the Hospital Wing, she risked a little light from her wand. The dim glow, shielded by her hand, barely illuminated the floor in front of her, making it look otherworldly, like the surface of the moon.  Now, where to go?  Nowhere near the edges of the castle, of course, to avoid the dementors.

            Astoria decided that climbing up to the Astronomy Tower might tire her out enough to go back to sleep. She crept along at a snail’s pace, doing the “fox step” that she had used before to get out of the Hospital Wing. Her little light revealed the space around her slowly as well, lifting the veil on pale imprints of objects one by one by one, reaching out into the void.  In the dark it was hard to count the steps to avoid another trick one, so she prodded each step she came across with her wand before she put her foot down.

            After climbing up the twisting spine of the Astronomy Tower, Astoria reached a large pair of dark blue double doors, which were locked.  A quick _alohamora_ spell fixed that, and soon the sky was visible.  Because the moon was so frail, the sparse stars stood out like freckles, as miniscule as they were.  Astoria was not as tired as she had hoped because she had been moving so slowly, but the breeze was pleasantly chill, and a little gust made her catch her breath. The Great Lake was a hunk of strangely shaped black glass that shivered and twisted when the wind hovered over it. The same breeze stirred her hair around like idle fingers. 

            Astoria felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, though she could not tell why yet. The sound of the tinkle of metal upon metal became apparent to her now.  Perhaps she had heard it before, but she had not noticed it until then. Behind her on the stone, carved with elaborate star charts that could barely be made out, a pair of eyes opened up slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep.  The barely perceptible irises rolled around in the pale orbs dreamily until they locked onto her.  Astoria gasped and froze in place. 

            Whoever owned the eyes opened them even wider than before and rose up through the floor, and soon a transparent face as ghostly as the moon appeared.  It was gaunt, with dark rings under the eyes and thin, wide lips. His hair and beard were dark, and moved as if suspended in still water.  The ghost drew up further very quickly and attempted to grab her shoulders with his hands, which were almost black with blood.  Of course, the merely passed through, leaving a frigid trail.

            “…Oh,” he said in a deep, hoarse voice.  “Too late.” Astoria did not respond. It occurred to her that he was trying to keep her from falling from the roof, though she thought she had only swayed a bit due to shock.  She tried to tune in to his thoughts, but she could not pick up on anything. There was something there, but it just kept slipping away.

           “You should be more cautious near the edge of the tower, child.”

            “Thank you, sir. I will try to bear that in mind.”

            “Baron. I’m a baron, not a knight, child,” he said with a bit of an edge in his voice, though his expression remained the same.

            “I’m sorry s- baron,” she replied.  Astoria tried to look the Bloody Baron in the eyes, but the way they stared at her without blinking was unnerving.  Her own eyes kept straying to his chest, where a hole over his heart produced a wide trail of ghost blood that dripped down his rich-looking tunic and jeweled belt. From the same wound sprouted several chains that he had draped and wrapped around himself like a corpse’s bandages. The Baron’s clothes floated as if in dead water like his hair, but the chains dragged straight down.

            “Who…” he said, trailing off.

            “Who?  Who am I?” she prompted.

            “…Yes,” he said.

            “I am Astoria Greengrass. Pleased to make your acquaintance, baron,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

            “I don’t think we’ve had one of your family before.  Oh…no, wait…”

            “Not besides Daphne.” She said.  “What is your name?”  The ghost seemed genuinely taken aback at this question, his thick eyebrows drawing closer and lower, making him look either angry, concerned, confused, or all three.

            “I remember when I was your age,” he finally said.  His voice had not changed, though he wore the same troubled expression.

            “Oh.  That’s, er, good, I suppose,” was all she could think of saying.

            “It is hard to decide which emotions to follow.  Be careful, child.” Astoria thought she had gotten over the unease of talking to the ghost, but she was wrong.

            “I should get back to the Hospital Wing.”

            “And you. What do you want to do when you grow up?” The Baron’s tired eyes dragged themselves over in her general direction.  Meanwhile, he seemed to have lost his attention somewhere over the side of the tower, as he had drifted over there to look down at the ground.

            “Um, Bloody Baron?” she called. Perhaps he would become offended if she left without saying goodbye. 

            “’Bloody?’” he said, his mood hard to discern.  He hoisted up some of his chains and looked them pensively, as if weighing each possible response carefully.  “Yes. Though that is not part of my title, Miss Daphne.”

            “It’s Astoria,” she replied harshly.  “I don’t even look like her.”   

            “Yes you do,” he said simply. Then, he gasped a little, the sound like the wind whispering through a crack in old wood.   “Ah, the murderer! You should not be about at this hour.”

            “Yes.  That’s why I am leaving now, baron,” she said, already turning to walk back towards the passageway. 

            “I shall find a prefect to accompany you.  It would be safer that way,” the Baron said.

            “Oh.  Thank you, s-baron,” she replied over her shoulder as she jogged towards the door to the interior.  “I really appreciate it.” 

            It seemed to Astoria that the journey back to the Hospital Wing went by a lot quicker, even though she had to move slower because she had to use less light to avoid detection by whichever prefect the Baron would alert to her presence.  The sleeping faces of portrait subjects were more unsettling to Astoria than before, as she expected her light to fall on the transparent imprint of the Baron’s emaciated face, or the face of a thunderous Gryffindor prefect (or even worse, a Slytherin one).   She made it to the Hospital Wing safely, however, and promptly pretended to be asleep.  A few minutes later, Astoria heard the door slowly creak open.  She was tempted to freeze and stop breathing, but that had gotten her caught before. 

            “It looks like you’re mistaken again, Baron.  There she is, sleeping soundly,” said a deep, scratchy voice that sounded vaguely familiar to her.

            “I am not mistaken! I was just talking to her,” replied the Baron.

            “Maybe you ‘just talked to her ‘ a few years ago, old man,” replied the voice affectionately. “Anyway, no harm done, right? I need to get back to my patrols.” The door quietly closed again, and Astoria heard faint footsteps creep away.  She could still hear the Baron’s chains clinking quietly near the entrance, though. 

            “Oh look, Abraxas is here as well.  I wonder if he ever got a new pet bird,” he mused softly.  Eventually the sound of his chains drifted away.  Astoria sighed in relief.  There, another few points saved for the team. 

 _I wonder how many times I’ll have to protect Slytherin’s standing. I don’t want to make the others angry at me…_ However, the idea of constantly bending over backwards to please others made her feel trapped. Why did she even try so hard with schoolwork, now that she thought of it – bending over backwards, that is? It’s not like she couldn’t just take over parts of the family businesses whenever she felt like it.

 _Because I want to be the kind of person who can do well in school. Also, you need good marks to have the power to choose other things._ _It’s the only thing worth trying to do._  It was the only option, like the cold light of an unknown place faintly gleaming at the end of a long, long, tunnel, stretching and stretching on no matter how hard you ran.   She would need to get those notes from Lupin as soon as she could.


End file.
